


you keep on talking

by BELDR0P



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BELDR0P/pseuds/BELDR0P
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And maybe, one day, they would all forget about you and what you had done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you keep on talking

You don’t know what’s wrong with you, or if there’s even anything wrong in the first place. They tell you there’s something _wrong_ with you, but you can’t feel it. So why can’t they just shut up about it? They act like they know what’s running through your mind every second of the day, and piece by piece it’s tearing you a part.

You kind of want to yell and cuss and grunt because that might solve something unsolvable. Maybe you have gone completely batty due to the past. Maybe you should be locked away somewhere _for your own protection_ , they said. You don’t quite understand how it’s for your protection but you want to make them proud, you want them to be happy with you, because it’s expected.

At the same time you don’t want to do what’s expected. You don’t want to _be_ expected.

A part of you wants to hurt and maim and kill because that would be _unexpected_. Your role has already diminished, so why do you have to keep playing it? You’re a person too and they don’t seem to understand that. To them you are merely a thing, a thing for their amusement and hypocrisies and contradictions.

Sometimes you want to punch them in the face or hex them until they just can’t _feel_ anymore because they just don’t understand. You don’t want to be in the public eye, you don’t want to be a part of the expected, and you don’t want to be tethered and lectured and led around.

If anything, a part of you wants to get back at every single one of them for any single thing they had done to you. That didn’t even matter. It could just as well have been someone you have never met before. It wouldn’t matter. You wouldn’t be playing your role and that was all you needed.

Sometimes just these thoughts made you hate them. And it was a burning, all-consuming hatred that you just didn’t know what to do with. But then they would say or do something and that hatred would fizzle out only to jump up minutes later. They just didn’t _understand_.

They thought they did, sometimes. Other times they questioned you and pushed you and they still didn’t _understand_. It was enough to make you furious, enough to make you want to rip your hair out. Maybe you were crazy, maybe the pressure was too much for you, maybe you should leave, fade into the background. 

And maybe, one day, they would all forget about you and what you had done.


End file.
